Unpredictable
by IllaSc
Summary: We're all predictable, really. The balance of the Host Club depends on it. If we're not predictable... well... Haruhi POV TamaHaru oneshot. Fluffy and angsty.


#fanfare#

Entre Illa! I have been notoriously missing for a very long time, as my readers keep reminding me, and what do I do to return? Write my first Ouran fic. I hope I have not disappointed you too greatly, Max Ride fans.

This is actually a spur-of-the-moment oneshot that, as of writing this author's note, is not even written yet. I just had the idea a few minutes ago. I have two other Ouran fics to do, one Kyouya/Haruhi and one Mori/Haruhi, then I will return to the Max Ride fandom. Perhaps.

Fluffy, as per my usual. #grin#

Oh yeah, the **DISCLAIMER:** (haven't done one in a long time) I don't own these characters. Waaaaaah.

Haruhi's POV

- - - - - - - - - -

_Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock._

My eyes lazily followed the not-quite-progress of the pendulum, swinging back and forth in the splendid casing. And why shouldn't it be splendid? I was, after all, sitting in the Third Music Room of the most prestigious private academy in Japan. I yawned. All my clients had left for the day, and I was bored. Only one girl remained in the room, resting her head dreamily on Suoh Tamaki's shoulder.

I smirked when Kyouya approached her, knowing what he would say. Sure enough, the girl stiffened, rose, and bowed to Tamaki before leaving the room. Kyouya was so predictable. Then again, we all were. Predictable, that is.

Honey would always eat his cakes, Mori would always care for Honey with an obsession, Hikaru and Kaoru would always be mischievous, Kyouya would always be concerned with merits only, Tamaki would always be a fruitloop...

... and me? I would always keep up my facade of being "unaware" of the attention lavished on me by all six of them. Yep. All six.

They all thought I was an idiot when it came to all things feminine, as if I wasn't conscious of any of their advances. How could I not be aware of the way Tamaki held me, or the firm hand on my shoulder- Mori- that always rescued me? If I were to fully respond to these actions- if I were to become unpredictable- I might find our carefully balanced Host Club slipping apart. My best defense against all of them was to pretend to be a fool. Surprisingly, they bought it.

"Haruhi-chan? You may leave now," Kyouya informed me, pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. Predictable. Even though he disguised it by continually raising my debt, he never made me clean up anymore. I stayed afterward one day to see who was doing the cleaning, and I was astonished to see the third Ootori son sweeping the marble floor.

"Arigato, senpai," I replied automatically, bowing. Honey waved to me, bouncing cheerfully, as I left. Predictable.

Lost in thoughts of the latest sale at the supermarket, I was bumped out of my daydream by a collision with a large, bulky object. I blinked and looked up in surprise. A huge, hulking man sneered down at me.

"Hey, there, sweetheart." Immediately I went on the defensive, fists balling, ready to swing. Why was it that thugs could always tell I am a girl? No time to think about that now, though. A huge hand landed on my shoulder-- and was brushed off by someone behind me. A tall someone. A blonde someone.

"Begone, foul carrion!" he thundered. The guy looked Tamaki up and down, clearly not impressed. "You shall not touch my Haruhi."

"You're a shrimp."

"I'm a rich shrimp. If you touch me, you will never see light again. I am Suoh Tamaki." The man put two and two together and came up with four, and scampered off. I turned to glare at my savior. "Why did you do that? I had it completely under control! I don't need to be rescued." If I guessed correctly, that would be enough to send him to some alley to grow mushrooms, and I could run home. Or else he would sweep me off my feet and begin weeping about my treatment of daddy.

The violet eyes that gazed into mine were soft, serious. "Haruhi, we have been over this already. This man was not Kyouya. He was not just trying to teach you a lesson. He would not have stopped." I flinched at his reference to his friend, and his serious manner. I had to end this sincerity, now- so I shrugged. "You cut in before I could unhand myself."

He did not commence weeping. He simply stared at me, brow furrowed. He looked so... normal, so _handsome_- no, no, I did not just think that- but this wasn't the predictable Tamaki I knew. This was... must be someone else. Because predictable fruitloop Tamaki didn't make my heart race. This was no good, no good at all. I turned away from him and trotted toward my apartment. As I entered the front room and took off my shoes, he stuck to me like a shadow. I whirled toward him in confused fury.

"What do you want from me, Tamaki-senpai? Another apology?"

He did not begin babbling. He simply stared at me, brow furrowed, and I had the strangest feeling he was about to cry. Not sob, or weep, as I was forever seeing him do- the annoying kind of tears that mean nothing- but really _cry_. I backed away a little, somewhat unsettled.

"Why, Haruhi? Why can you not take me seriously unless I'm playing the piano? Why may I not rescue you unless there is a thunderstorm?"

I laughed, a hard sound. "Why should I take you seriously? You've never given me any evidence that you are not a dunderheaded idiot." What on earth was I saying?

He blinked, and for a moment I thought I had overstepped my bounds. "And you have never given us any evidence that you are not an emotionless droid." Tamaki stepped forward, and took me in his arms. I remembered the time he had held me during the thunderstorm. His arms were so warm, so strong... He spoke again, his voice a raspy whisper that made me shiver. "But that is not the case, is it? You react as any girl would. You just are good at hiding your emotions. You're wearing a mask... just like me." Something pressed into my hair, and I was sure it was his lips.

For a moment I stood there, drinking in the safe feeling of being in Tamaki's embrace. I could stay here, I realized. I only had to let him know that he was right. I only had to respond in kind- only had to reach up and hug him back- only- _only_... be unpredictable. Something wet fell on my cheek, and I registered it as my own tear with astonishment. My hand reached up to brush it off, and I simultaneously disengaged myself from Tamaki's arms. This was going to hurt both of us.

"What are you talking about, senpai? React how? I don't know what you're talking about." I tried to smile naively, and the result seemed to fool him. I had reached for my mask that had fallen, but he never knew it had dropped in the first place. With concentration, he resumed his own and grinned stupidly.

Predictable.

"Oh, never mind me, Haru-chan," he said brightly, patting my head. "Daddy is rambling. Haruhi will understand when she gets older." It killed, killed, killed me to see him take up his act now that I knew it was more fake than the porcelain in my bathroom. But the balance in the Host Club depended on it. So I smiled back, exchanged a few pleasantries with him, and led him to the door. He called, "Goodbye, my dear Haruhi! Daddy will see you tomorrow!" as I shut the door.

Mask firmly in place. For both of us.

As I slid the deadbolt home, I wondered about the others. Maybe none of us were really predictable. Was Honey really so childish? Was Kyouya really so cold? Maybe we all maintained our masks for different reasons. I rushed to the window and peered through the lace my mother had made, and tears formed in my eyes at what I saw.

Tamaki stood across the road, cheeks glittering in the sun, mask dropped. He held a fist to his heart as though he had just been stabbed there. His face was torn with sorrow as he watched my door, totally ignoring his annoyed chauffeur. And what really hurt was that _I_ had done this.

"I'm sorry, Tamaki," I whispered. "But... I can't do this. I can't let anyone see my mask fall. So... I need to be predictable. I need you all to be predictable."

_Because if you're not predictable, I may end up falling in love with you._

- - - - - - - - - -

Uwah... this is sad. I didn't mean to make it angsty, I promise! It just... kind of... worked itself in there.

Reviews are love, as always. Like I said before, this is my first Ouran fic- my first anime fic, too- so let me know if I could improve anything. I'm sorry if I messed up the titles and things like that.


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